


The Curious Meeting of Whitetail and Mr. Wolf

by Luspiel



Series: Harry Potter and Jazz [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First War with Voldemort, Fluff, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kid Fic, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), One Shot, Remus and his amber eyes, Remus's Dumbledore Mission, Sirius Black is a Good Friend, Werewolf Discrimination, Werewolf Remus Lupin, Werewolves, Wizards, apparently smell like spice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25265629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luspiel/pseuds/Luspiel
Summary: In a tent in the woods a bit of a distance from a werewolf pack there is a loner man who smells of wizards.
Relationships: Remus Lupin & Original Character(s), Sirius Black & Remus Lupin
Series: Harry Potter and Jazz [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591132
Kudos: 2





	The Curious Meeting of Whitetail and Mr. Wolf

From a young age I had always known I would end up with nobody. The pack took me in on principle, but that doesn’t mean that the fear and disgust in their eyes weren’t any less evident than anyone else’s. Just about every stray spark and strange happening was blamed on me, but it didn’t really make much of a difference to me. I had thick skin just like my mummy, and if that wasn’t enough then I sometimes lied a little. It had always been this way, and it would always be this way. That one in particular had gotten me through some of the tougher nights when the pack didn’t have enough food or blankets for me. 

I understood though—why they look at me the way they do. They’re always scared of everything, and are always looking over their shoulders trying to pick out shadows from in-between the trees. I know better, but they don’t. There’s nothing to be afraid of in the woods. That’s what half my names means, “from the woods.” Everything would be okay because dawn would come and the woods will still be there in the morning. 

I didn’t, however, know whether the loner man would still be there in the morning. He had tried to make peace with the werewolves of my pack, and while they hadn’t slit his throat yet, Gertrude hadn’t exactly welcomed him either. He was camped out a mere half mile from camp—bold. That was reason enough to spark my interest, but the loner man held more secrets than I could’ve ever imagined. The loner man smelled of **wizards.**

The woody twigs and stinging nettles scratched at my hands and tingled painfully on my exposed calves. The half mile to the warm glowing light in the distance had really seemed far closer when the pack leader had sneered at how near it was. Chanelle could be nitpicky about these things though, like how she insisted that everyone 12 and under should abstain from work outside of the camp area, but then quickly altered it when she found out I was 10. The light bobbed up and down as I made my way over a fallen tree, it dipped out of existence when I tripped over a cleverly cloaked stump, and seemed to flicker at me disappointedly when I stopped to admire an ant hill. I had to decide whether meeting loner man was more important than sticking my finger in an ant hill like Gertrude had told me not to. I decided on the ants even if it was only to subtly subvert authority. 

One message to The Man and a burning hand later, I arrived at the tent. It was a smart brown color that blended well with the woods and did wonders in hiding the deer resting just outside of my eyeline.

The deer leapt up onto its hind legs rustling the tall grasses around it. I screamed as I fell backwards hitting the ground hard, and the deer, not to be outdone, followed me down narrowly missing my right leg when bringing down its powerful forelegs. I shielded my face because while deers may be vegetarians that doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re okay with me walking around their home with venison breath. 

“Immobulus!”

And there was loner man in all his tall glory **wielding a wand.**

Inside loner man’s tent was something that should not exist—a house. Perhaps it was more of what a one-story shack would look like, but it’s design beat any of the tents in our camp by a landslide and allowed for impossible things such as teeny tiny kitchens, a cozy looking sitting area complete with coffee table, and most notably, a door indicating another room. Loner man invited me to sit down awkwardly, it didn’t seem like he got many guests in his magic tent. And it had to be that, didn’t it? There was nothing else to explain the mind boggling portable home other than magic and witchery. 

“You’re from the werewolf pack aren’t you,” he spoke with a deep voice and an accent not native to England. 

“You’re a wizard.”

“Uh, yes, I am. I was hoping to save that little tidbit for when I had gained a little more trust among the pack, but it seems luck wouldn’t have it. My name is Remus Lupin, and you are?”

Apart from his funny name, he seemed like the put together and dependable type. He was wearing a brown cardigan over a dark green button down and flannel bottoms, but no shoes. It grounded him a bit, and made him seem like less of an otherworldly scholar. Maybe the people back at camp didn’t like loner man much because they had only ever seen him with shoes on and never noticed his fuzzy looking socks. I’m sure they’d change their opinion of him if only they saw the meticulously embroidered “R” on his flannel shirt laying in a heap on the table.

“Excuse my wardrobe,” loner man Remus said as he stuffed the shirt behind him, “You caught me in the middle of dressing. Why were you out in the wood this late at night though?”

I craned my head to see if he had vanished the shirt with magic, “I was out adventuring. I don’t get to choose when and where my adventures take me, so it’s really out of my hands. I just so happened to end up here, that’s all.”

He raised a copper brown eyebrow, “Is that right?” 

I raised both my ebony eyebrows, “Yes, it’s quite right. I like your attack deer; it’s a really smart idea. I just don’t like almost getting killed by one.”

Loner man Remus chuckled, “It wouldn’t have killed you. It was probably just trying to get a taste of those ants crawling around on your hand.”

There were indeed ants on my hand, but to my credit I did not panic only very carefully plucked them off one by one. Ants were very hardy, so they probably retreated to some corner of the magic tent and would serve out the rest of their miserable lives there. “So, it is **your** attack deer though. What did you do to it?”

“No, I own no deer much less ones specifically trained for attacking, and I simply froze it in place. It probably didn’t appreciate being frightened by you….”

“Oh, I see. Anyway, how did you enchant your tent to be so big on the inside? Are you planning on teaching the pack how to do magic? Can you still do magic while a wolf?”

He sighed, and I got the feeling that I was missing a semi-important social cue, “I bought it like this, no, and no. Now since I’ve answered plenty of your questions you have to answer two of mine. What is your name, and does anyone know that you’re here?”

“My name’s Wen Chen-Lin or Chen-Lin Wen if you westernize it, and of course someone knows I’m here. You do.” 

Loner man Remus knitted his eyebrows, “It’s nice to meet you Chen-Lin, but I think you should be getting back to your camp now. I’ll be visiting again the day after tomorrow, so maybe we’ll meet again. Until then good night.”

I got the feeling that loner man Remus the wizard was shooing me, made more clear by him hastily pushing me towards the tent’s entrance, however I hadn’t exhausted my curiosity for wizarding activity quite yet. The looming figure of the frozen doe was just in sight, but I expertly ducked under loner man Remus’s arm and returned to my hardback wooden chair, which was surprisingly comfortable. “What spell did you use on this chair?”

“Molliare.”

“Neat,” I said pulling my legs up into a criss-cross position. Loner man Remus put on a kettle of tea presumably to soothe his nerves in preparation for our riveting conversation. “Do you know what they say about you at camp? They say you’re shifty, and that you smell like wizards. Magic smells like spice, and I guess that’s bad. Wizards don’t like us werewolves very much. I get it, though, because sometimes I sneeze and things catch on fire.”

Loner man Remus gingerly placed his cup on the counter and looked at me with his full attention. “I don’t think you’re shifty either, but it’s not because I’m a wizard too. I think you’re very nice, and you smell like tea up close just like my mum did. She loved green tea.” Loner man Remus wordlessly pours me a cup of tea and hands it to me before sitting down in his own enchanted chair. He waits for me to sip the tea, which is not green but grey with a bit of something floral in it. Is this how city people drink their tea? I upgraded loner man Remus’s name in my mind to Mr. Lupin for he was a man of good taste. I was also a girl of good taste, so naturally, I translated his name to Mr. Wolf.

“Thank you for giving me a chance, Chen-Lin. I hope what I have to say can be of service to you and your pack.” Mr. Wolf smiled gently, and I could imagine that he was fairly popular among his peers. I tried smiling gently too because I could use a boost in popularity back at camp, but I can’t be sure if I reached the intended effect from Mr. Wolf’s laughing alone. His eyes were a very interesting amber shade. They were warm like glittering lights against a woody background, and I had never seen anything like it before. I liked the way they curled at the corners. My mummy hated those wrinkles that curled around her eyes, but regardless they still made their appearance every time she smiled. Mr. Wolf was still smiling, and I realized that I was staring. 

“Uhm, you get post,” I stated dumbly. I ignored the burning in my cheeks in favor of pointing at the folded envelope on the coffee table. Even though I aspired for knowledge just like I was taught, I couldn’t read or write. Yet. “I’ve always wanted to receive a letter from someone. Maybe a letter from my da now that mum is gone or perhaps a letter from a friend.”

Mr. Wolf appraises the letter on his own table like it’s a stranger intruding in on his house, which is to say that he views it with kindness and gentility. He smacks his lips dryly and sighs before reaching over and grabbing the letter, which seemed to be annoying him quite a bit. It was almost as if he had been trying to avoid the piece of paper’s existence despite its most likely happy contents. “I have a few friends of my own—wizards like me—but I had to leave them behind for a while.”

“Do you miss them?” 

“Very much,” he replied with a frown. 

I scuffed my foot against the floor, “Maybe you would feel better if you read your letter—but of course you don’t have to! Read it, I mean.”

With a wry smile Mr. Wolf cut open the letter with a nail, and revealed two old looking pieces of paper with fancy writing scribbled onto it. Was this how city people wrote their mail? Mr. Wolf began to read aloud, and his voice had the same deepness as before but now flowed fluently from one sentence to the next. There was a story unfolding from his lips sprinkled with inflections and honeyed accents.

“Moony, 

I have no idea whether this letter will reach you or not. I haven’t the slightest clue whether you’re in a position to read this or not. I don’t know if you’re sitting by a fire safe and sound or if you’re lying in a pool of blood that may not necessarily be your own. I don’t know if you’re somewhere where you might need me or if you’re somewhere where you’re better off without me. What I know is that I miss you. Hard to believe, but that still happens. I also know that I’m worried about you, among other things, but the rest will come later with a little whiskey.

In other news, Prongslet spoke his first words a week ago. They were normal baby words such as “Ma” and “Da.” I undertook the task of teaching him to say ‘Padfoot’ and ‘Moony’ as well. He’s got ‘Pafoo’ down pat, and you have now and forevermore been relegated to ‘Moomy.’ 

Wormtail’s mum is still not in great shape. I visited her a while ago, and she made me that soup you like. You know the one with the little cut up pieces of ham? Anyway, she says that even though Wormtail still lives there he sometimes doesn’t come home at night. He can take care of himself, but she’s still worried. Based on the letter Flower sent me about Wormy, I’m worried too, but I only have so much worry I can dole out at a time, so I’ll leave that job to Prongs. 

Now I suppose I should talk of important things like the war effort, but there’s no reason for me to believe that this letter will end up in its intended hands, so I might as well talk about happier things, eh? Things that make me happy are food, so I will list some of your favorite foods now: chocolate, humbugs, risotto, ice cream, soup (the kind with floaty bits of ham), treacle tarts, mandarins, artichokes (you weirdo), and sourdough bread. Did I get that right? I don’t know it’s been a while. When you get back let’s eat cake. Merlin knows we could all use something to celebrate, and I definitely need something to up my sugar intake. Just last Tuesday, Flower sent me a tupperware full of spaghetti because she was worried I had just ‘forgotten I needed to eat.’ I think it was all a ploy to make me have to return the tupperware and visit, but it was in vain because we both know that I can’t stay away from Prongslet for very long. 

I’ve run my mouth for long enough or maybe I’ve run my quill enough? Either way, I’m shutting up now. Give me a reply when you get the chance or better yet you can get the hell over here yourself, and we’ll talk face to face. Whatever it is you’re doing, Moony, I hope it’s worth it. 

\- Padfoot”

Mr. Wolf sat silently for a few moments before methodically folding up the letter along its creases and tucking it away. This time he let me see it vanish into thin air with just a flourish of his wand. He looked guilty, and it seemed like his friend had no idea that he was safe in the woods where no harm could come to him. I wonder why he never told them. “I didn’t know there was a war going on. Is that why the werewolves have to move all the time?”

“It’s part of the reason,” he states absently. 

I hastily tried to cheer up the situation, “Your codenames are pretty wicked. Perhaps I should consider adopting one as well, maybe Whitetail, you know, like the deer.”

“That’s quite good actually!” Mr. Wolf chimes, “So, Whitetail, you like codes then? Can you guess the code Padfoot left for us in the letter.”

I liked the way he used “us,” almost as if he was inviting me to be apart of their friendship. “The most out of place part of the letter was the list of food. Apart from there being no way anyone could like artichokes, it was very unusual to include in a letter. Perhaps, it’s the code.”

“You’re on the nose.” He does **not** boop my nose like my mummy would and for that I am grateful. “If you take the first letter of each word in the list then it spells out the word Christmas. The compound words are to throw people off, and the question at the end is a way of asking if I’ll be back in time for Christmas,” he lectures.

“Will you then? Will you be back in time for Christmas?”

“Probably,” he shrugged. 

Those amber eyes told a different story though. They were dark and full of as much depth as the ocean; I loved looking into them. “Cake!” I exclaimed. I didn’t want Mr. Wolf to think of me as a weirdo because I kept staring, so the obvious choice was to commit R.R.C.C, which means to rapidly and randomly change conversation topics, of which I’m a repeat offender. “I would like cake as well.”

“Oh, you mean the letter,” Mr. Wolf said, humouring me, “Sadly, I have no cake out here, but you can come to tea tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Yes, that’d be very nice. I’d like,” I fumbled. I would be having city people tea in a wizard’s house-tent tomorrow!

“Brilliant! Just make sure to bring an adult with you from your pack.”

‘But they’re all awfully rude and mean to wizards,’ was what I wanted to say. I hated whinging, but the situation really was hopeless this time. No one would ever agree to take me, but perhaps I could sneak away while gathering firewood and say that “my adult” was gathering berries near the house-tent. Technically, it wouldn’t be a lie, and my chances of success would increase dramatically.

“Okay, you have yourself a deal, Mr. Wolf.” 

He smiled wonkily at the sound of his own name, “It’s been a pleasure, Chen-Lin.” I gave his outstretched hand a firm shake. “Get home safe now.”

I had nobody just as I had always foresaw, but maybe it didn’t have to be that way for **all** of always. After all, there was a loner man who had friends that cared about him. It was still unclear whether or not Mr. Wolf would still be there in a few mornings to come, but I was confident in one thing. In a house-tent, which should not exist, in the woods half a mile from a werewolf pack there is Mr. Wolf who is a very charming wizard and has wizard friends with many charming things to say.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to go with bold rather than italics because I think everything would be **big** in a child’s mind. It wouldn’t be elegantly curled in cursive but underlined in coloured gel pen or something. I got inspired from my other fic Those Who Mourn the Wicked, and wanted to write about what one night on one of Remus’s secret missions might be like. I might write more of different werewolf packs if this gets enough response. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. 
> 
> P.S. I composed Padfoot’s letter in my dream and wrote the story around it in the morning, talk about productivity!


End file.
